


the time they were capable of flight

by kakkoweeb



Series: Pomp or Circumstance [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, M/M, OiKage Week 2017, bit of injury; nothing too serious, explanation in the notes, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkoweeb/pseuds/kakkoweeb
Summary: Tobio becoming seeker should've ruined all of Quidditch for Tooru, it really should have.--“I never know how much of what I say is true.”- MidlerOiKage Week Day 1





	the time they were capable of flight

**Author's Note:**

> [PLEASE READ!!]
> 
> hi!! welcome to oikage week piece # 1, the first in a brand new series carelessly entitled Pomp or Circumstance, my official oikage week 2017 series! just a little intro to the thing before you read for the next 8 days: it's going to be an au collection. yes, all of the works in this series are going to be either snippets or condensed versions of aus that i have formulated and accumulated in the one year (truly, nearly one year. i fell in love with oikage on may 25th, 2016) that i have loved the ship! brief details for each au will be posted in the end notes along with some links to my sources of inspiration, just for the sake of spreading that oikage love. god knows it needs it.
> 
> (disclaimer: i'm writing this ahead of time so i'm not sure if all 8 fics are going to be posted according to the schedule. also not all of them are going to be ~romantically~ shippy in nature, so there's that.)

When he’d learned of Quidditch at the age of six, young Oikawa Tooru had been nothing less than smitten with the title of seeker. It was such a unique position, such an important one—one where you were isolated from the rest of the ruckus, exploring the field with the freedom of movement in the gruelling search for the one thing that decided the game, that dictated the victory; one that required calm and focus and then control over the inevitable adrenaline rush that came with sighting the snitch and surging forward with all your might to acquire it, that came with butting heads with the opposing team, the golden ball reflected in both your eyes; one that had people going wild the minute you tumbled forward, a little dirty, a little shaky, but with victory in your hands. It was everything Tooru knew he wanted, and it had him humming dreamily, day after day, picturing himself in that sleek uniform and wielding that state of the art broomstick and cruising the skies, the entirety of the student body screaming his name.

Joining the team at eleven was as exciting as it was a bit of a disappointment, but nothing he and his ‘positive attitude’ couldn’t handle. An eleven-year old could never hope to surpass a fifteen-year old seeker with much more experience and steal his position, anyway, naturally. Besides, being a chaser was pretty fun too. It was all about strategy and coordination, and successfully duping the opposing team’s chasers and keeper gave him a satisfaction that was incomparable to anything else. Quidditch was fun, truly, the best part about going to wizarding school, no doubt—but deep in his heart, the young Oikawa Tooru knew that in three years’ time, it was going to get even better, when it was finally he with the right to fast-fly and hold the even faster flying winged ball in his hands.

Meeting first year Kageyama Tobio at thirteen and watching as the seeker position was enthusiastically handed to him a year later, however, was a blow he wasn’t sure he could recover from.

A genius flyer, they called him. He’d entered first year at eleven like everyone else, took the required flying class once and was apparently soaring through the clouds as well as any thoroughly-trained professional would. Occasionally he’d get caught playing an illegal game of airborne catch with some impressed and opportunistic upperclassmen, and not struggling in the least. He’d joined the Quidditch team and stayed on the bench for official games, asked Tooru questions about his flying, eyes keen as a hawk as they observed every move Tooru made on the field, drinking in whatever the hell it was he was thirsty for without any other care in the world.

And that was all it took, apparently; at fourteen, Tooru had been surpassed by an underclassman, and all his dreams were flying out the window along with the snitch he would never be allowed to touch, and for the first time since he was six, he no longer knew what to think.

 

**1.**

He’d made it a personal mission, then, to inconvenience Tobio in every way possible—calling him unwanted nicknames, refusing in the most defeating way possible whenever he asked for tips or feedback on a move he’d just performed. Tobio wasn’t an easy target though, never got frustrated for more than five seconds before returning to what he was doing before, and it left Tooru livid most days, stuck with only the option to talk shit about him to anybody who would listen—in other words, his best friend, Iwaizumi.

“Why are you always talking smack about Kageyama?” said (irate) best friend had asked one afternoon as they made their way down the hall to a shared class. “Isn’t he, like, your flying disciple or something?”

 _“Hell no_ ,” Tooru had replied loudly enough that a nearby painting of a samurai had to stop in its tracks to shoot them a look. Tooru had ducked his head and lowered his voice to a hiss. “There is no way anyone that annoying and dumb and—and— _poopface_ can be called my disciple at anything. No freakin’ way.”

He held to that belief as tightly as he could, that his early days of thinking Tobio a normal boy and indulging his requests for advice was a thing of the past or, better yet, didn’t happen at all, and that Tobio’s eyes following him as he flew meant absolutely nothing because observing lowly commoners was simply a pastime for the genius, the king, and there was no way Tobio had actually learned anything from him or that any of his techniques had inspired any of Tobio’s.

But then on another day, he and Iwaizumi were accidentally listening in on a conversation between players of another house, not his or Iwaizumi’s, spewing nonsense like ‘the Cup’s gonna be ours this year’ and ‘our seeker is the best among the ranks’ and Tooru couldn’t help the cocky smile forming on his face, couldn’t stop himself poking his head out from behind the cover of the wall and humming at the poor, oblivious souls, and going, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

The players had stiffened and some had recoiled, but his cheeky grin only broadened. “I’m not into doing our competition any favours but I think you should know that _our_ seeker isn’t anything to smirk at,” he’d continued. “He learned from the best, after all. So unless you want your future defeat to be completely embarrassing, I suggest you stop talking big and get to work.”

It had been endlessly satisfying to see students his age fleeing with their tails in between their legs, but before he could relish in the perks of his standing and reputation, Iwaizumi was glaring at self-satisfied face. “I thought you said Kageyama isn’t your disciple.”

“Hm? He’s not. I didn’t say he learned from me; I just said he learned from the best.”

“Oh, is that right?” And then: “Hey, Oikawa! Who’s the best?”

“Me.” Tooru casually shrugged—and then clamped a hand over his impulsive mouth.

Iwaizumi grinned. “So which is it?” he asked, laughing out loud as he watched Tooru scowl and walk briskly away without another word.

 

**2.**

Throughout the years, other than ‘no’ and ‘you’re a stupid face’ and ‘go drink your milk or something’, there was another sentence that frequented Tooru’s lips whenever Tobio was in question.

“I hate him.”

Ushiwaka looked up from his spell book. “Who?”

“Him. Tobio-chan. I hate him,” Tooru grumbled, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, and mouth ready to yammer on even as he was seated in the completely quiet library next to a completely quiet person. He had a multitude of paper and reading materials spread out before him as well, but for the most part, they went untouched.

“I’m sure you don’t mean that,” Ushiwaka replied, face as concerned as it could possibly be given how stiff it usually was.

“I do, though. I hate him. I hate his guts. I hate how lucky he is.”

“Maybe you do hate those things about him, but that’s not the same as hating _him.”_

“I hate everything about him! So that means I hate _him.”_

Tooru could only roll his eyes at the resulting, sceptical hum. “Hate is a strong word, Oikawa,” Ushiwaka said, turning his attention back to his book and turning a page. “You should use it more carefully.”

“ _Hate is a strong word, Oikawa, eughh,_ ” Tooru mimicked in the most mediocre of ways, and Ushiwaka was looking up at him again, eyebrow raised. “Maybe you’re all just weak. And I’ll have you know that this use of the word is very well thought out, thank you very much.”

But then one afternoon at practice, Tooru was mistakenly passing the quaffle into the back of Tobio’s head, a chill spreading throughout his entire body as Tobio hurtled off his broom and forward, landing on his face and tumbling a few feet on the grass. In a second, the entirety of their team was rushing towards him, Tooru in the lead, helping him get on his ass at the very least and gawking at his plain-looking face and yet very, _very_ bloody nose.

“I’m okay,” was all he’d said, but there was no way anyone with a conscience could let him keep playing while blood dribbled all over his lips and so Tooru had yelled at him to go to the infirmary, struggled to catch his breath as he watched Kuroo and their captain, Kuroki, help Tobio to his feet, tried to calm the wild beating of his heart in his chest as they headed off to find the matron, Tobio stumbling as he went.

Practice had been subjected to a premature stop, needless to say, and the rest of Tooru’s afternoon had been dedicated to sitting in silence, theoretically chewing his fingernails off in the common room with only the companionship of the ever unhelpful Ushijima—until finally, Kuroki was slipping through the door, a bit of dried blood still staining his sleeve.

“What happened to Tobio-chan?” Tooru immediately demanded, and the captain jumped. “Is he okay? Is he dead? Please don’t tell me he’s dead—“

“ _Oikawa._ Relax,” Kuroki interjected, a small laugh gracing the end of his words. “He’s not dead. It was pretty easy to get the bleeding to stop and his head’s completely fine. He has a bit of a headache but it’s not too bad, he says. They’re just letting him rest up and he’ll be back on his feet again in a little while.”

The news was a heavenly light and a chorus of angels for Tooru’s heart and, gratefully, he was letting out a sigh, resting a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat slowing down. “Oh,” he breathed out, “that’s—that’s good. Thank you, Kuroki-san.”

Kuroki had sent a smile his way and took a single step forward—only to stop again midway. “Hey, Oikawa.”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad to see you so worried about Kageyama,” he’d said, shifting awkwardly when Tooru cocked his head in confusion. “I mean—I don’t know, I guess I thought that there’s always been bad blood—okay, no, bad word choice. Um.” He huffed. “I thought you kind of…hated him.”

Hearing that from the team captain had caught Tooru more off guard than he would have liked to admit, and instantly, he was shaking his head. “No, I don’t _hate_ him, I—yeah, we're not friends or anything, but it’s not so bad that I’m not gonna care when he gets into an accident.”

“Okay, good. I’m happy to hear that. I don’t want anyone on the team hating on each other, okay?” Kuroki said, finally resuming his walk to the bedrooms, sending a few pats to Tooru’s shoulder as he passed.

There was barely enough time for Tooru to take another breath before an annoyingly low voice behind him was saying, “Well thought out, hmm?”

Tooru gritted his teeth and threw a pillow Ushiwaka’s way; he only caught it and settled it on his lap.

 

**3.**

Finally becoming captain had taken forever but the transition had been so natural, like everyone was expecting it, Tooru himself included. He’d never been baselessly confident; he knew that his superior game smarts and athletic ability had been an excellent aid to his team since he’d first brought them to the table and if there was any one seventh year in their current line-up who could say that he knew the team and its members like the back of his hand, well enough to know how they ticked and know how to get them to tick their way to better plays and, eventually, triumph, it would certainly be him.

He wasn’t all they needed to win, of course, but he had no doubts about his underlings either.

“Every captain that has ever existed has said this probably, but I’m really feeling the team this year,” Tooru told Kuroo after the customary pre-game huddle (the first of its kind for the season), affectionately wrapping an arm around his vice captain’s shoulder and turning to competently gaze at the dispersing regulars like they were his offspring instead of his teammates. “I mean—we’ve got on you on defence, Miya number two and Futakuchi-chan on offense, and then me, Ushiwaka, and Miya number one scoring points. That’s, like, the best configuration ever.”

Kuroo lightly shoved him away, a single corner of his snarky mouth turned up. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

Feet away from them, Tobio was standing alone stretching his fingers, and Tooru rolled his eyes, topped the gesture off with a defeated sigh. “Yes, yes, _and_ our adorable seeker Tobio-chan is going to get us those sweet, sweet hundred and fifty points like he always does.”

“ _Adorable_ ,” Kuroo repeated pointedly, laughed. “Are you even _trying_ to seem like you hate him at this point, Oikawa?”

“There’s no need to try; it’s an effortless endeavour.”

“Whatever floats your boat, captain.” Kuroo shrugged and began to walk away, broomstick held close to his body like a war weapon would be. “As long as you keep getting the quaffle past Nishinoya, I’ll be ready to forgive that you’re one hundred per cent bullshit one hundred per cent of the time.”

It had become some sort of pattern in his daily undertakings, in all his seven years of school and five years of Kageyama Tobio: his switching from one stance to the next, unable to get his story straight whenever it came to him, the junior who’d stolen his position and did nothing but benefit Tooru and the entirety of their team by doing so. And he could publicly deny it all he wanted, he still did, but there was no way to escape how naturally his eyes were drawn to the so-called genius no matter the time of day, the flurry of the nameless yet burning, fiery, _intense_ emotion that came with watching him. It left Tooru confused more often than not, and by now, he figured he was the only one who still was—maybe the only one who ever had been.

Adorable was just one way Tooru had taken to describing him—not exactly a compliment and, in some interpretations, derogatory but absolutely, positively true—and the other potential ways were endless; or so Tooru remembered as he and his team and their opponents mounted their brooms and ascended to the proper game height, his eyes trained on Tobio’s dim blue ones already shifting into focus, already taking stock of the field and its contents before the blowing of the whistle could even be announced.

And he was nothing but reminded all throughout the match, not so much because of what Tobio was doing but because he could physically feel only a portion of his person dedicating itself to the balls and the goals, while the other portion (not really half; maybe a quarter or less, or more) relaxed, took note of their team seeker in his natural habitat—patiently, carefully watching and waiting for a sign, a glint of gold, even from the corners of his eyes—and was the first to smile when those eyes lit up, Tobio ferociously lurching forward on his broom at a speed most people would be afraid to undertake, ready to fulfil the purpose Tooru had wanted for the longest time and fulfil it in the best way possible.

Five years had gone and Tooru could still taste a bitterness on his tongue, but it was getting increasingly easier to ignore.

The match ended in victory, of course it did, and high on their first win of the season, the first of many, Tooru was able to forget everything for a while in favour of exchanging grins and hi-fives with his teammates and witty, arrogant banter with Miya number one, and sentimental promises of regularly kicking ass for the remainder of the year (their final year) with Kuroo, less than willing to accommodate the idea of anything less.

But then just one look at Tobio, just one chance locking of eyes, and it was all coming back. Tobio’s gaze had always been intense, whether it was angry or not, and the feel of it lighting flames on his face coupled with the exhilaration from flying and winning at flying seemed to spark a flame elsewhere in Tooru’s system, somewhere that had been dark and cold and once unreachable.

He cocked an eyebrow and approached the inappropriately-staring team prodigy, crossed his arms and rested all his weight on a single leg. “Good work.”

“Thank you.” His eyes were shining. “You too.”

“Yeah, you better thank me,” Tooru found himself saying, not even sure why. “Where would you be without all my coaching and guidance?”

“You gave me advice once. When I was eleven.”

Tooru turned away with an airy, cocky (fake, unconvincing) laugh. “So ungrateful. I hope when you’re doing interviews for the local paper you’ll remember to mention your mentor and captain at least,” he quipped as he began his walk away.

It didn’t really make sense, any of this, any of his thoughts and opinions and feelings towards the genius flyer, his supposed sworn nemesis, but before he could get too far and overthink all of it or brush it all off as unimportant agenda, there were several footsteps, a warm body getting closer, and then a call of: “Oikawa-san!”

And then Tobio was right behind him, both hands curled into fists, lips determinedly thin, stare as intense as ever.

He took a breath. “One day, I swear I’m going to get better than you.”

That didn’t make sense either; not to Tooru, at least. Tobio had waltzed into school two years after he did and managed to become their ace in the hole in no time flat, managed to stop crowds despite his lack of pleasantries and personality—and to Tooru, it was glaringly obvious that he’d been the better of them from the start. But for all that he was—aloof, dense, talented, hardworking—Tooru was sure of one thing he was not: a liar. His set jaw and stance were genuine in their conviction, always, and Tooru wished he could say the same for himself.

Still, he smiled. “You’ve got a long way to go, brat.”

Tobio huffed, and the action seemed to be one of petulance and offense but also one of agreement, and Tooru didn’t dare discount the fact that it was of both. He and Tobio were the same in that respect, he figured; just couldn’t get their stories straight, couldn’t pick one permanent side even if they tried. But perhaps there truly was no one, linear story, no one right side with them. Everything they were together was utter chaos, a multitude of lines and universes and colours drawn by an unsuspecting child with crayons, a million stories that didn’t make sense and made sense at the same time, something that a good portion of the living would never be able to understand but definitely something that would be worth it to try to.

Tooru wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [HARRY POTTER/MAHOUTOKORO AU]
> 
> this is actually set in the japanese counterpart of hogwarts, lazily named mahoutokoro by the ever-creative jk rowling (no im not upset what are you talking about), but i didn't explicitly state that here bc i invented a lot of additional info for the school and would rather not have to explain any of that lol. much like the actual hq, hinata is the main character for this au, but of course, much like the actual hq, there is relevant oikage sidestory. it's not a sport/quidditch-centric au, but they do like it a lot and it adds to hinata's inner turmoil lol.
> 
> [feel free to talk/ask about this au, if you're curious!](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) fair warning tho: im shy


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